


The Fun Way

by Wizard_of_Ozzie



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-05-02 11:27:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14543718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wizard_of_Ozzie/pseuds/Wizard_of_Ozzie
Summary: Oswald's all alone, when an intruder breaks in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just indulging my late night fantasies again. Probably a one shot (unless you want more).

Chapter 1

Oswald sits in his study, his plush wingback chair facing the fireplace, as he takes a gulp from the glass of cognac in his hand.  He gazes into the flickering flames, absorbed in thought.  Just a few months ago, he was the indisputable King of Gotham.  He had the underworld, the mayor, even the GCPD under his thumb.  _The higher you rise, the harder you fall._   He thinks ruefully.  _Well, this isn’t the first time I’ve hit rock bottom.  I’ve clawed my way back to the top before.  I’ll find a way to do it again_.  He says to himself, his lips forming a hard, determined line. 

But this time feels different.  Never had he felt so utterly alone.  Ed had betrayed him, _again_.  Butch had gotten fed up with his empty promises and left.  He briefly wonders if he could woo Ivy back to his side, but he quickly casts that thought aside.  The last time he’d seen her, she’d been on TV, spouting some lunacy about plants being better than people.  Maybe she had a point.  He’d never been stabbed in the back by a flower _.  Unless I turn green and start sprouting leaves, I doubt she’ll want anything to do with me._   He muses with a wry chuckle, before taking another swig from his drink and placing the empty glass on the table beside him.

A sound catches his attention.  _Are those footsteps?_   He asks himself, standing and grabbing his cane.  He pulls the cane’s hidden dagger from its sheath, not making another move or sound, as he strains to hear whatever that was he’d heard before.   He gasps, wide eyed, as the door to the study flies open.  He blinks, not sure he can trust his eyes, as a tall man dressed in black strides into the room.  His swagger and cocky, lopsided smile ooze with playful confidence and his rippled physique exudes a menacing vigor.

“Hi Penguin.”  Headhunter croons, a twinkle in both his eyes, as he gives his host a quick wave.  “The last time I saw you, you were just chillin’ at Sophia’s place.”  He adds with a deep chuckle.

“Why are you here?  What do you want?”  Oswald hisses, as his grip on the dagger tightens and his eyes blaze.  Headhunter seizes his gun from his holster with blurring speed and points it at Oswald.

“Now, now, I’ve had enough of your knife-play, so either drop that or lose a hand.”  Headhunter says, his jovial voice ringing with gleeful malice.  Oswald exhales sharply, dropping the knife.

“I said, what do want _Wendell_!”  Oswald seethes, his nostrils flaring beneath fiery eyes, both hands clenched into tight fists, at his sides.  Headhunter grins, and despite himself, Oswald notices how his perfect white teeth and smooth, full lips combine to make one truly gorgeous smile.  The grinning man catches the subtle shift in Oswald’s stare and walks closer, lowering his gun, while carefully watching for any false move.  A whiff of Oswald’s cologne floats up to his nose and he inhales deeply, savoring the rich scent of the smaller man. Oswald hears the hitman’s slow intake of breath and his eyes widen, as the taller man leans nearer.

“I hear you’re looking for Dr. Strange.”  Wendell answers, his breath warm and whisper soft on Oswald’s ear. “Dr. Strange wants to know why.”  Oswald feels an almost imperceptible shiver at the heated kiss of breath against his earlobe.  Or is it the fiercely muscled body only inches from his?  Oswald quickly recovers, focusing on the situation at hand.

“So, you’re working for Strange now?”  Oswald sneers, his chin tilted upwards, as he gives the hitman a defiant stare.  Wendell returns the stare, caught off-guard by the smoldering green orbs fixed intently on his.   _Weren’t his eyes blue last time?_ Wendell’s gaze slides down the smaller man’s face to his parted lips, moist with spittle from his angry outburst.  The assassin casually licks his own lips.  He sees confusion light in Oswald’s face, as his stare lingers.  Wendell’s gaze shifts, focusing on the flames dancing in the fireplace, before turning back to Oswald.

“I’d prefer to call it returning a favor.”  Wendell explains, tapping the corner of his healthy new eye.  “Looks good as new, eh?”  He adds jokingly, before his face hardens.  “Now answer my question.  Why do you want Strange?”  Oswald considers his question for a moment, not sure how to frame his response, but knowing that this unexpected visit is probably just what he needs to get Butch back.

“Well, I have an associate that was contaminated by a batch of chemicals from Indian Hill.”  Oswald begins, trying not to be too distracted by the way Wendell was crowding his personal space.   “There were some pretty nasty side effects and we wanted Strange’s help making him, uh, good as new.”  Wendell nods, as he considers the response.

“Do you have the actual chemical, its name, or lot number?  Something he can use to identify it.” Wendell asks.  Oswald is slightly taken aback by Wendell’s response.  Not because it was inappropriate, but because it was exactly the kind of thing that Strange would need to know.  He’d written the man off as a moron and wonders now if he had misjudged him.  After all, he’d made it into the mansion and then the study without setting off any alarms or triggering any of the booby traps he’d set for unwanted intruders.  Perhaps Wendell’s over-the-top flamboyancy and somewhat goofy behavior didn’t indicate a lack of intelligence.  Maybe he’s just quirky like that.  Wouldn’t be the first time he met an intelligent man with a peculiar personality.

“I have the canister that contained the toxin.  It’s empty but do recall some numbers being written on it.”

“Then, show it to me.”   Wendell commands, a tad impatiently, as if he expected it to be presented in response to his first question.  It occurs to Oswald that he’s not only gathering information but verifying the veracity of his story.

“I’ll get it.”  Oswald says, moving toward the door.  Wendell follows him.

“I’ll come with you.”  It’s a statement, not a question.  Now Oswald’s sure he wants proof.  He leads his doubtful visitor to the hall closet and opens the door.

“Ta Da.” Oswald exclaims, extending his out-stretched arm and open palm to the canister on the closet floor.  Headhunter leans over, studying the metal container.  He stands up and turns to Oswald, gun still in hand, but pointed downward.

“Pick it up.”  Another command.  Oswald huffs, then lifts the canister, extending it to Wendell.  Oswald’s eyebrows raise inquiringly, when Wendell doesn’t take it.  “My car’s outside.”  Wendell says, lifting his gun and pointing it toward the front door.    Once outside, Wendell clicks his key fob and the car’s trunk pops open.  Past annoyed for being asked to play bellhop, Oswald carelessly tosses the canister into the trunk, hoping some residual chemicals spill into its carpeted interior and poison the infuriating hitman.  

“As you know Dr. Strange’s time doesn’t come cheap.”  Wendell says nonchalantly.

“Understood.”  Oswald curtly replies, flashing a smile that looks more like clenched teeth, before he folds his arms and glares at Wendell. Wendell in turn gives Oswald his most dazzling smile, yet.

“Has anyone ever told you how cute you look when you pout?” 

“WH-WHAT!”   Oswald sputtered, his face going red.

“I said I think you’re cute.”

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you should know I’ve got another knife in my pocket.”  Oswald growls menacingly.

“Ooh, that’s a knife in your pocket.  And all this time I thought you were just happy to see me.”  Wendell replied with a lopsided grin.  Something snaps in Oswald.  Snarling like a rabid dog, he rushes the much taller, more muscled man.  Headhunter’s eyes bulge from their sockets, as the smaller man lunges at him with the ferocity of a charging rhino.  Fortunately for Head, his reflexes kick in like lightening and he swerves enough to deflect the bulk of the collision.  Grabbing Oswald by his jacket, he swings him around and slams him against the car, pinning him between the car and his body.  But Oswald’s no quitter, more Tasmanian devil than penguin, he reaches up seizing Wendell by the throat.  Wendell, gasping for air, counters with a swift knee to the groin.  Now it’s Oswald’s eyes that are popping from his skull, as he grabs his jewels and falls to his knees.

“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”  Oswald shrieks, the veins in his temple bulging like feasting leeches.

“Been there, done that.”  Wendell smirks between pants. “Let’s try something new.”  He says, grabbing Penguin by the lapels and yanking him to his feet.  He plants a wet sloppy kiss on Oswald’s lips and Oswald, initially shocked, leans into it, as some serious spit gets swapped.  Breaking apart for air, Oswald gives him a sly grin.

“If that’s what you wanted, why didn’t you say so.”  Oswald pants.

“I wanted to do it the fun way.”  Headhunter replied, bending down to capture his lips again.

                                                                                        

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a couple of Headhunter pix, in case someone doesn’t remember the character. Frankly, I can’t forget this sexy devil!

[](https://ibb.co/wCxYTfr)

[](https://ibb.co/pbPZnJ4)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think.


End file.
